Their Return
by ciaofay
Summary: Part 3 in the Claudia Holmes case. Sherlock and Claudia have returned to London , but will John forgive Sherlock for taking his sister away from him? Meanwhile, Claudia doesn't like Sherlock's new female friend and John is worried that they will split.. For good. Moreover, Sherlock has trained Claudia in the arts of deduction leading her to dangerous pastimes... Sherlock X OC
1. Europe

_For tomorrow might rain, so I'll follow the sun. –The Beatles_

"Passport and boarding pass, please." The hostile woman in front of the boarding gate told a woman. Said woman handed her documents over, and adjusted her sunglasses. She was quite short, with shoulder-length, straight dark brown hair. She was also wearing these sunglasses, which she would refuse to take off, even on the plane. Quite boldly, she was wearing bright red lipstick and a long dark coat.

"Thank you, madam." The woman said, handing them back to her and allowing her to walk past and onto the plane to Berlin.

She walked outside, holding a hand up to avoid the splashes of rain coming from the English clouds above, and rushed up the steps, clutching a bag in her hand, and finally walked onto the plane.

The air hostess smiled at her and showed her to her seat. She was in business class, and got a whole aisle to herself, which she was glad of considering the work she was about to do.

She waited until the other six people travelling business class arrived on the plane before taking some documents from her bag and reading them.

'_Enjoy this one, and I'll see you at the airport with your conclusion.' – _was scrawled at the top of the page in scruffy handwriting. She smiled and tucked her shortish hair behind her ear, and began to read.

The flight only took around two hours, and by the time they had landed, she'd already figured it out and knew exactly where she would be going when she'd sorted herself out at her town house in Berlin. She'd be catching one of the buggers who had helped Jim Moriarty kill Sherlock and Claudia Holmes.

When she felt her ears pop as the pressure decreased as they slowly dove down to the runway, she tucked the documents into her bag and touched up her lipstick. She ruffled her hair slightly and smiled.

Twenty minutes later and she stepped from the plane, her heels clicking on the ground as she marched with intent to quickly get her bags and leave. She showed her passport at passport control and went to wait for her suitcase. It was one of the first to rotate on the conveyor belt and she staggered slightly as she picked it up.

A leather-gloved hand helped her out, picking it up before she had chance to fully stumble back.

"Figured it out?" He muttered into her ear, gently tugging on her short hair as they made their way through baggage and out of the airport.

"Oh yes." The woman replied, smiling.

"You've come a long way, darling." The man replied, hailing a cab without tearing his eyes from her.

"I trained under the very best." She grinned.

"I know you did." He agreed.

The cab pulled up and while she climbed into the back, he put her case into the boot of the car.

The man then climbed in the other side.

As the car drove away, they both relaxed, out of scrutiny of the public.

She wiped the lipstick from her mouth and took the sunglasses off. She also took the long dark coat off to reveal her dressed in a short dress and tights.

The man unpopped his collar and shook his dark, curly hair from its cage of the collar.

"Your hair has changed." The man noticed, once again tugging gently on it.

"He made me cut and dye it! Your bloody brother said I was too recognisable. _You_ don't have to change anything, and you're much more famous than I am!" The woman complained, ruffling her new hair out and shoving all of her extra additions (sunglasses etc) into her bag and sitting back.

"Stop complaining, Claudia." A recognisable voice from the front said. Mycroft Holmes turned around to face them both. "Very well done, nobody was suspicious at all. Your best meeting yet." He grinned, looking quite sinister. "I'm assuming you have both read over the documents and are ready to catch this imbecile of a hench-man." Mycroft enquired.

They both nodded.

"I'm also assuming you want to go home first?" Mycroft then asked.

"Oh God, yes." Claude nodded. Mycroft muttered a few things to his chauffer.

"We're on it." He told them, before pulling the modesty curtain down to give them some privacy.

"I've missed you. Why do we always have to split up to travel?" Claudia asked.

"Inconspicuous." Sherlock replied, taking his phone out and typing quickly on it.

"You're just sick of me. You want a few precious hours of time away from training me up." She joked, playfully kissing his cheek. He frowned and wiped the remnants of lipstick from his cheek.

"Absolutely spot on." He said without looking up. Claudia grinned. "It's also to make you believe in yourself, to prove that you can be an excellent detective without me being there." Sherlock added.

"Yeah, well. It was easy. Five minutes. An idiot could have solved it." Claudia replied derisively.

"Ah, you're turning into me, Claude! An obnoxious arse hole." Sherlock smirked, putting his phone away and looking at her.

"Shut up!" She exclaimed, laughing and elbowing him. He caught her elbow and used it to pull it closer to him, kissing her. She tried to resist, trying to prove a point that she could be independent. As he stopped her from pulling away, he gently ran a hand up the side of her thigh, and she resisted no more.

As soon as they got to the house, Sherlock and Claudia practically ran inside, giving no thought to their bags still in the car. Sherlock shut the front door by kicking it.

"Oh, God. We're going to have to wait for them to get it out of their system. Every bloody time. They only saw each other two days ago." Mycroft complained, looking at his watch.

"Young love, Mr Holmes. Young love." His chauffer commented.

_Eight Months previously, London._

"I was _so_ alone, and I owe you so much." John said, now addressing both of them. He inhaled deeply. "Okay. No please, there's just one more thing, both of you. One more thing. One more miracle. For me. Don't... Be... Dead. Would you do...? Just for me. Stop it." He said harshly, gesturing to their graves. "Stop this." He insisted, shouting now.

He sighed and lowered his head again, completely messed up. He covered his eyes with his hands and began to cry again. He finally groaned and looked up, shaking his head as if to shake himself out of his sadness. He wiped his eyes and came to attention before them both, saluting them and turning on his heel before walking away.

Stood behind a tree, right behind his supposed grave, was Sherlock Holmes. He watched John Watson walk away and bowed his head. He inhaled shakily before also turning and walking away, alone, in the opposite direction to John.

At the gates to the cemetery stood Claudia. She had her hands stuffed into her pockets and a single tear track down her cheek. She smiled at Sherlock, who looked deeply affected by what he had just heard.

"Do I want to know?" She asked him, taking his hand as they walked down the street.

"He said he misses you and loves you. Sentimental." Sherlock sniffed.

"I think he has a right to be sentimental." Claudia said, smiling slightly despite herself.

"Claudia, we're not actually dead." Sherlock reminded her, exasperated. They'd obviously had this conversation before.

"If it's so sentimental and alien to you, how come you've got tears in your eyes?" Claudia said, reaching up to touch his glistening cheeks, but he moved his face away. Claudia smirked, going to do it again, but he popped his collar and dropped her hand, walking quickly away from her.

"Oi!" She yelled, grinning as she ran to catch up. "It's not a bad thing." She said, taking his hand again and falling into stride with him. "In fact, I'd think even _you_ were weird if you weren't upset by all of this." She told him. He nodded, feeling slightly more masculine now that she said that. "You're blushing!" Claudia exclaimed when she saw how crimson his cheeks were.

"Shut up, I am not." Sherlock muttered. Claudia grinned and with her free hand she clutched at his arm she was already holding the hand of, and rested her head on him too.

"The car is parked round the corner. Are you sure there's nothing else you need before we drive to the ferry dock?" Sherlock enquired.

"I'm sure." She nodded, they turned the corner and Sherlock unlocked the car. The backseats were packed full of bags.

"Are you sure you think John will figure it out?" Claudia asked.

"Claude, you underestimate your brother. Of course he'll figure it out." Sherlock said.

Oh, how wrong he was.

At Sherlock's words, she got into the car.

"Where are we going first?" Claudia asked as Sherlock drove swiftly.

"France." Sherlock replied. "Mycroft has bought us three houses. One in France, one in Germany and the other in Russia." Sherlock explained.

"He _bought_ them? Bloody hell." Claudia said, frowning at her husband who nodded in quiet agreement.

"We're doing his job for him. This is his way of thanking us." Sherlock said.

"What do you mean, 'we're doing his job for him.' You're doing his job for him, not me." Claudia scoffed, hoping to God she wasn't going to have to accompany him on these death traps.

"I'm going to train you up." Sherlock said, taking his eyes briefly from the road to gauge her reaction.

"You are not! I don't care about being a detective. My field is history!" She exclaimed. "I _was_ going to tour round the countries looking at all the famous History spots." She said.

"Boring." Sherlock claimed, and Claudia glared at him.

"Boring is being able to identify types of tobacco, and being able to judge a character by the aftershave he wears." Claudia insisted, leaning forward to get her point across.

"But I need you." Sherlock said, knowing that his apparent vulnerability would make her want to join him.

"Yeah? Okay." Claudia said, sitting back. Sherlock smiled at her predictability.

_Eight months later, Berlin._

Sherlock and Claudia left their house to find Mycroft looking bored and his chauffer looking amused. He winked at Sherlock when Claudia wasn't looking. Sherlock smiled slyly, but let it fall when he got into the car with Claudia.

"Now that you've finished whatever you were… Ahem… Doing, maybe you can actually do your job, _Sherlock_." Mycroft snapped.

"Actually, _Mycroft…_" Claudia began sharply. "I do believe Sherlock is doing _your _job while you lounge around and occasionally get on the exercise bike to burn off your guilt." Claudia said, and Sherlock smiled proudly, putting his hand on her knee and grinning at his brother.

"Kudos." Mycroft said, turning around and leaving them to it, raising his eyebrows at his chauffer with a wordless appreciation of her quick wit.

"So, Heydrich Muller has been causing disruption in the heart of Berlin, has he?" Sherlock talked to himself, pulling his leather gloves on and sitting back in his seat. "One of the snipers that was hired to kill John, this one. Oh, I'll enjoy this." Sherlock grinned sadistically. Claudia looked worried at this. It was never good when Sherlock turned sadistic, although she understood, what with the circumstances.

"Yeah, maybe don't kill this one, Sherlock." Claudia suggested quietly.

"Who knows what will happen." Sherlock said, dodging the statement proposed to him.

"So, he's hiding in the basement of the British Embassy in Germany. Why would he do that? That's the only part I can't understand." Claudia said, watching Sherlock do his thing.

"If anyone catches him, I suppose he's amongst the right people to talk to. The British Embassy in Berlin is who the Berlin police would go to if they caught him anyway. It's the only logical conclusion I can come up. Perhaps he's going to claim he was threatened by Moriarty, and if so, the British Embassy again would be the right place to go to. I suppose it's like a safe place for him to stay." Sherlock rambled. Claudia nodded.

When Mycroft's chauffer pulled up outside the British Embassy, both Sherlock and Claudia got out of the car. Mycroft handed Sherlock a business card. Hand this to reception and I'm sure they'll comply quite nicely. Oh, and do please put your little disguises on. I haven't given you new identities for you to ruin it all." Mycroft grinned. Sherlock sighed and popped the collar of his denim jacket, smoothing his shorter hair behind his ears and putting sunglasses on. Claudia put her sunglasses on too, her long black jacket and lipstick, as Mycroft instructed.

Together, they walked into the modern and apparently 'edgy' building, to find themselves in a lobby. British flags were hung on every wall, along with gleaming glass floors and primly dressed receptionists behind the front desk.

"English or German?" One of the smiling ladies asked.

"English." Sherlock said, turning his face slightly in case the woman recognised him.

"What may I help you with, Sir, Madam?" The woman asked.

Sherlock slid the card onto the desk and waited. The woman indulged the information presented and looked slightly worried.

"Of course, are you representing Mr Holmes?" The woman asked Sherlock and Claudia.

"Yes, we are. If you could let us into your basement- that would be lovely." Claudia said. The woman looked as if she was going to tell them to leave. "It's a threat to the British Nation, I don't think your boss will be very happy to know you endangered your Nation all for the sake of stopping two people from going into the _basement._" Claudia said quickly, lowering her sunglasses and looking dangerously at the woman.

"Oh, yes. Of course. I'll get George to take you." She said, motioning to a free security guard, by the looks of it. "George, the lady and gentleman would like to see the basement. Code Red, immediate urgency. Under the name of Mycroft Holmes." The lady said. George nodded and led Sherlock and Claudia to the glass lift.

"Mycroft Holmes, hunh?" George asked as they stood awkwardly in the lift. "I'm afraid even for him I won't be able to leave you on your own, in case you start routing. I hope you understand." George said.

"Of course." Sherlock said, his hands locked together in front of him. Claudia was doing the same.

The bell to the lift rang when they reached the basement. George held the doors open for them as they got out.

The basement wasn't a typical basement. For a modern building, of course it had seats and everything in it. A few workers dotted about, looking through filing cabinets for documents and such.

"Is there anywhere desolate down here? Completely separate from the rest of the basement?" Sherlock asked George.

"Yeah, the warehouse." George said, leading the way.

"I hope you've got a gun, George. Because we haven't." Claudia said as they walked quickly to the warehouse.

Inside it was dark, and damp, and exactly what you'd expect from a basement.

"There is a British-German assassin hiding in this basement. You heard of the name Moriarty?" Sherlock asked, casually turning the lights on. They flickered on before brightly lighting up the room.

"Yeah, he was that guy who Sherlock Holmes hired, right?" George asked.

"The very same. Except Sherlock Holmes didn't hire him. Moriarty was real and one of his hench-men is in this room." Claudia concluded quietly.

George looked at her like she was crazy.

"Hang on. If you're here for Mycroft Holmes, how do I know Sherlock Holmes didn't just hire you two to check this place out? Or to kill this actor he employed as a hench-man for ratting on him?" George asked.

"Because Sherlock Holmes is dead." Sherlock said stonily.

"Okay, well Mycroft is his brother. What if Mycroft hired you two to avenge his death by killing this guy?" George was piecing things together, but in the wrong way. He turned his communications device on. "Security threat red in warehouse, send backup." He said. "Repeat, backup to the warehouse."

"Oh, you bloody idiot." Claudia cursed, looking at Sherlock. Sherlock motioned for a flight of metal stairs to his right. Claudia nodded.

At the same time they sprinted up the stairs, catching George out. Sherlock led the way through the tunnels of the true basement, and luckily there were lots of hidden tunnels and doorways for the buildings upstairs to hide in. Sherlock led Claudia down a particularly tiny tunnel, which George would never fit through even if he found it.

"We'll be okay here." Sherlock whispered.

"Or we could just keep going and find Heydrich." Claudia reasoned.

"Get security out of the way, let them lock the place up for the night and then we can do what we want." Sherlock whispered back.

"Oh, brilliant." Claudia hissed. "So we're staying here all night?" She asked.

"It's the long game, Claudia. And the game is on." He replied.

**As if I'd kill her. I mean, really. She's my own creation! I love Claudia! Obviously, John doesn't know she's alive….**

**I think a few chapters of my own doing, then The Empty Hearse, then a few chapters of my own doing etc etc. In these first few chapters, at some point there's going to be quite a sad scene involving Claude, but something good will come out of it! - That's my take on spoilers, actually letting you know nothing at all ;-) **

**Not sure about when I'll next update- I have my mock exams this following week so I'll be pretty stressed. I know you guys understand!**

**-Fay xox**


	2. The Crimson Trail

_**Things do happen, and you know it's not your fault. - Jake Bugg**_

Slight warning: A horrible topic coming up at the end of the chapter, please just be warned.

The night was dragging on. The more Claudia checked her phone for the time, the more she felt like killing Sherlock. He was thinking, fingers clasped under his chin as he stayed quiet. His legs were outstretched where he was sat, and he hadn't moved in three and a half hours. Claudia, on the other hand, didn't want to sit down on the cold stone floor and continued to pace through the small tunnel despite Sherlock's various complaints.

"If you're that bored, just talk to yourself. The hours will fly by." Sherlock joked, not opening his eyes to watch her.

"Hilarious. You're bloody hilarious, Sherlock. Three and a half hours! Can we _please_ just go and look for Heydrich?" She asked, practically begging. Sherlock cracked one eye open and watched her for a moment.

"No." He told her. She groaned in exasperation. "Just sit down." He said, irritation clear in his voice.

"I can't. It's cold!" She exclaimed. Sherlock grunted in frustration. He took his coat off and put it on the floor, and she glared at him. She sat down, wincing slightly as she did so. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at that, watching her intently.

"How long do we have to wait?" Claudia asked.

"I can still hear Security guards looking for us, so keep your voice down. When they've gone, we go." Sherlock whispered.

"I really think we should be looking for this guy, not just waiting for security to catch us." Claudia complained. "Plus, I'm hungry." She moaned, whining at him and leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Uh, I thought I'd trained you to be more like me, not more like John." Sherlock hissed. "Just control your appetite." He instructed.

"I can't! Can we please just go?" She asked. "Or I'll go on my own." She promised, and she meant it.

"No." Sherlock said. "And no, you're not going on your own." He also said.

She stood up, brushing herself down. "Oh yeah?" She asked. She began ducking through the tunnel and peered around the corner, checking for security guards.

"I'm going for it." She said excitedly, dashing out of the tunnel and walking through the main basement.

"Claude." Sherlock hissed, but it was no use. She couldn't hear him. "Oh, bloody Watson's and their tendency to wander off. Claudia!" He said louder, putting his coat on and standing up. He followed her, keeping to the walls and shadows of the warehouse.

"Knew you'd follow me, darling." Claudia grinned. She'd waited for him to catch up. He glared at her and shoved his hands into his pocket, continuing walking through the basement.

"See, no security anywhere." Claudia laughed quietly, clearly seeing how straight-faced and unamused he was by her antics.

"Wait, shush." He said, crouching down to the ground and inspecting a knife that had been left, bloodied on the ground.

"Is that real blood?" Claudia asked, tucking her short hair behind her ears as she bent down.

"As opposed to what, fake blood?" Sherlock asked sarcastically. "Yes, it's real. And it's not congealed yet, someone was stabbed not long ago." He said, standing up and taking an evidence bag from the pocket of his new denim jacket and placing the weapon carefully in there.

"Heydrich thought someone had caught him. When actually, it was a security guard looking for us?" Claudia deduced. Sherlock simply nodded.

"Which way?" He asked her, testing her. She looked around, scanning the walls and floor for any clues.

"He would have had blood marks on his clothes and person judging from the amount of blood on the knife and floor, there would have been a splash back. Also, he's probably dragging this bloody body around with him, so he's probably gone down that tunnel with the massive blood stain on the floor." Claudia said, pointing to the obvious tunnel to go down. If Sherlock really intended that as a test, he was clutching for straws.

"Well, yes. Maybe I misjudged the difficulty of that one." Sherlock reasoned, leading the way down the tunnel.

"A bit shoddy to then drop the weapon." Claudia whispered as they quietly followed the crimson trail.

"He wasn't expecting it. He was clumsy." Sherlock shrugged, holding a hand up to silence her. She slapped his hand away and listened.

They could hear grunting coming from one of the many doorways the tunnels led to.

"Ready?" Sherlock asked Claudia. She nodded. He tried to open the door, but something was pressed against it to stop anyone from getting it. He barged through it with his shoulder instead, leading the way into the warehouse room with a sense of distinct authority. Claudia followed, feeling slightly ill at the sight of the stabbed security guard trying to get off the floor.

"It's okay!" She exclaimed, rushing forwards. "Well, it's not. But we're here now." She reasoned, bending down. She opened his shirt to look for the stab right. It was right in his stomach, gushing out blood.

"Sherlock." She called, feeling a wave of nausea hit, which was odd considering how she had never felt ill before looking at blood. She put it down to hunger.

"Yeah." He called back, having already noticed the man.

"No, Sherlock. Really. Come here." Claudia said, a tremor in her voice slightly which caused the detective to walk over.

"Oh, he's going to die anyway. No point." Sherlock brushed it off.

The man on the floor groaned. "Sherlock! Help me!" She yelled, pushing back the nausea and ripping a strip of cloth from her dress and pressing it on the wound, applying pressure. Luckily, the wound wasn't too deep. The man groaned slightly at the added pressure of Claudia.

She looked up to find Sherlock had gone. "Sherl-?" She called, but was stopped when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her neck and pulled her up. She choked slightly, tugging on the arms to try and loosen their restriction on her airwaves.

She pulled the oldest trick in the book. She went slack for a second, pretending to have passed out. The grip on her neck decreased and she ducked out of their grip.

She turned to find quite a burly looking man running at her. She quickly ducked out of the way again, looking for Sherlock. She found him fighting the man they were after, Heydrich Muller.

As the man dove for her again, she sent a punch right into the side of his neck, before immediately kicking the back of his leg, making him lose his balance. She used this to her advantage and pushed him causing him to stumble to the floor. Before he had chance to get up, she kicked his nether-regions quite hard and rushed back to the dying man, choking slightly and wheezing as she gulped air back into her dry lungs.

She pressed the cloth to the wound again but it was already soaked with blood- she was losing him. She ripped more material from her dress and balled it up into the wound again, doing what John had taught her many months ago.

She anxiously turned her gaze to Sherlock, who was in a headlock and was struggling quite violently with Heydrich. Heydrich himself noticed Claudia watching him and decided to attack the weaker of the two instead, knowing it would be Sherlock's weak point to see her getting beaten up.

He dropped Sherlock and walked, quite calmly, to Claudia. She ignored him, knowing that Sherlock would stop him before he had the chance to reach her.

But the other man had struggled up, in pain but coping. He saw what Heydrich was doing and turned to Sherlock instead. Before Sherlock could reach Heydrich, he launched himself over, knocking Sherlock to the floor and making him hit his head quite badly.

Meanwhile, Heydrich had reached Claudia. She'd stood, hoping that the security guard wouldn't die in the next few moments. She had blood-stained hands and clothes, and her eyes were half-shut. Quite unprepared, he grabbed her face quite violently and tugged her over to him. Before she could have time to protect herself, he punched her quite hard in the stomach.

Her eyes rolled backwards and she went limp, her stomach turning. She felt Heydrich catch her, he obviously knew something was seriously wrong.

He even looked slightly worried for her. Or maybe it wasn't her, but the pool of blood that was accumulating on his expensive shoes.

"I-" Claudia muttered, incoherently. She was floating in and out of consciousness, feeling intense pain in her stomach and becoming increasingly more out of focus.

Sherlock had seen what happened, and he also saw the pool of blood and put two and two together. He acted quickly, punching his brute in the face before taking Claudia from Heydrich, supporting the limp girl as he launched an attack on Heydrich.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know!" Heydrich Muller seemed genuinely disturbed by what he'd done. He'd also pieced two and two together. "Just go! She's more important." He convinced Sherlock, probably for his own benefit more than Claudia's. He saw the look in Sherlock's eye that said he wouldn't hold back in personally destroying Muller's life.

Sherlock picked his now unconscious wife up, not caring about the subsiding blood, and carrying her from the basement. He practically ran into the modernised and heated basement full of documents.

"Ambulance!" He yelled to someone, anyone. An English speaking woman got up with her phone immediately. "Two, actually. There's a stabbed man in the other basement. Here, evidence." He said, panting as he took the knife from his pocket and threw it on the floor. He then spent his energy supporting Claudia's hand and making sure she hadn't actually died.

He took her over to the lift, calling it. There was a group of people inside when he walked in.

"Get out." He ordered, looking slightly manic. They did as they were told, and he got in. "Oh, God. Come on, Claude." Sherlock muttered as they made their way slowly to the top.

The only thought on his mind was- blood loss.

When he reached the lobby, he ran outside with Claude, where luckily, the ambulance was tearing down the street, followed by another.

A paramedic got out of the first one and took Claudia from Sherlock. While they took her into the ambulance, he felt like a spare part. He watched anxiously, poking his head inside only to have them shut the doors on him while they stabilised her.

Meanwhile, the security guard was being carried out on a stretcher, luckily alive and strapped up to a ventilator.

When the paramedics finally opened the doors and let Sherlock get in, Claudia was still unconscious. She was also strapped to a ventilator, and she looked deathly pale. They'd covered her with a sheet and stuck an IV into her arm.

"Is she okay? Is she stable?" Sherlock demanded. "Tell me!" He yelled when nobody said anything.

"She's fine, we just need to give her a steady blood transfusion. Are you her...?" A paramedic asked.

"Husband. She's blood type A." Sherlock said helpfully.

"Are you sure? If we give her the wrong blood type-"

"Her body will reject it, yes I know. I am positively sure. She has been shot before and had a transfusion then, too. Plus, I do blood tests on all my friends when I meet them, in case something happens." Sherlock explained. The paramedic frowned at that, finally concluding that he was _odd._

"Well, as soon as we give her the transfusion, we can see exactly what's happened..." The paramedic continued.

"I know exactly what happened. She was punched in the stomach and she was..." He found he couldn't say the last word.

"Pregnant?" The paramedic asked gently. Sherlock closed his eyes and nodded, slouching slightly in his chair and pressing a hand to his forehead, completely in both shock and horror.

"I'm very sorry." The paramedic said, before turning around to leave the husband to mourn in privacy.

When Claudia woke up, she could hear ringing in her ears and felt something pressed on her mouth. She opened her eyes and pulled whatever it was from her face. A cold and steady hand stopped her.

"Keep it on." Sherlock told her. She looked around. Hospital. She frowned.

She looked around, noticing two IV drips feeding into her body, one for blood, the other for sugar and water to stabilise her from shock.

"What happened?" She asked through the mask, but had enough of it and took it off before Sherlock could stop her. "What happened?" She repeated.

"I think a nurse is coming." Sherlock said, but she felt him press the nurse button himself. Whatever had happened, he didn't want to tell her.

A nurse walked in and looked pleased that she was awake.

"Hello, Claudia. I'm Megan. Has Sherlock told you what's happened?" She asked. Claudia shook her head.

From outside Claudia's private room, Mycroft stood with his arms folded and his umbrella looped over the crook of his arm. He'd heard of what happened. He sadly watched his brother comfort Claudia and looked away, feeling he was intruding.

When Claudia had calmed down and was simply sleepily staring around the room, Sherlock took his coat off, and his shoes and climbed into the large bed with her. He pressed her head against his chest and gently rocked her, lulling her to sleep.

"Just because it didn't work out this time doesn't mean we can't try again in the future." He murmured. She nodded.

"The future." She agreed, before falling into a restless sleep.

_I know I know I know it's really horrible, I'm sorry! But it will only get better, I promise. This is paving the road to a better future for Claudia, and changes her! Don't worry, I won't write anything else upsetting regarding this. Once again, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, but it's vital for the storylines to follow! _

_-Fay xox_


	3. Perspectives

_**AN- This chapter is split into two parts. The second part starting after Sherlock's birthday video to John. It'll make sense. :)**_

_**Imagine – John Lennon**_

_Twelve months later. Number of Moriarty's hired assassins left- three._

"Bastard got away again." Mycroft cursed as he walked into his office, well aware than Anthea had hooked him up with Sherlock via webcam- the latter currently residing in Paris.

"What a surprise. Mycroft couldn't follow through on his promise." Sherlock replied snarkily, sat in front of the camera plucking on his violin absently.

"Very amusing, Sherlock. Very mature." He quipped, going to his bar and pouring himself some brandy before sitting in his leather chair and spinning round to face his computer. "Unlike you, Sherlock, I am looking to avenge your child's..." He began.

"Enough." Sherlock said sharply, looking up from his violin as if sending a warning to his brother.

Mycroft held up a hand and closed his eyes in concession, aware that he was about to cross a line. "Needless to say, dear brother, I am trying very hard to catch Frau Muller, it just proves to be a struggle when he's very aware the government is looking for him. I'm not quite sure how he's playing this particular game." Mycroft explained, for once allowing his barriers down to allow his brother to see he was telling the truth.

"Yes, well, me and Claudia have nearly caught the two in Paris. We're on the cusp of victory. When we've done that, I'll be travelling – alone – to Serbia, where I will hunt him down and... Well. You know the rest." Sherlock shrugged, turning his attention back to his violin.

"Revenge." The older brother nodded knowingly. "Well, let's just say I shall use all of my expertise to cover your tracks, dearest brother." Mycroft said, genuinely concerned for his younger brother's family-life.

Sherlock nodded his thank you. This past year and a half may have brought him closer to his brother in a camaraderie, but he wasn't quite ready to thank his brother yet.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your violin, Sherlock. It's clearly far more important than me." Mycroft said, only half-joking.

"Oh, woe is me." Sherlock said sarcastically, turning his webcam off and allowing himself to fully turn his attention to tuning his violin.

"Rude." Mycroft muttered to the empty room.

Sherlock had sheltered Claudia from Moriarty's men. He'd often go out alone and 'remove' them secretly, without telling her. Well, he didn't want her to get hurt again.

Of course, he couldn't make out that there were simply no men left to get- so he allowed her to accompany and help him on some of the easier and less dangerous ones. He wasn't taking his chances again.

Luckily, the two Czech men in Paris were easy to root out, with only minimal effort on Sherlock's part, and moderate effort from Claudia. Sherlock had to admit, it was a lot easier with Claudia helping. She'd come a long way. She was, Sherlock would say, at a level around Lestrade's- detective wise. Needless to say, he was impressed that she'd been able to catch up (in one year) to a man who'd been doing the job for at least twenty years.

When Sherlock heard Claudia turn off the hair-dryer in the bedroom of their Parisian apartment, he put his violin down and stood up, putting his horribly short jacket on. He also had no scarf which was simply awful. Claudia emerged from the bedroom, with mostly dried hair. It was still shoulder-length, but instead of being severely dark and straight, it was wavy like her natural hair, and her natural honey colour had made a return. Sherlock preferred it.

"Ready?" He asked her. She nodded, sighing as she put her now hated sunglasses on.

"God, I can't wait until we go home." She said. "How many left now?"She asked.

"These are the last two, I believe." Sherlock lied. Claudia nodded.

"Lucky us." She laughed sarcastically. "Can we go home soon, then?" She asked hopefully.

"You'll have to ask my brother." Sherlock said testily. "We have a national duty apparently." He grumbled, equipping himself with his gun before turning from the apartment. Claudia followed, also taking her golden gun from so long ago. She shut the door and locked it, before running slightly to catch up with Sherlock.

_London_

"A breakaway sect of Buddhist warrior monks infiltrated by a blonde drug smuggler! That never really happened." Lestrade insisted to the now bearded Anderson, who looked slightly manic as he talked about his new favourite subject. Sherlock and Claudia.

"A blonde drug smuggler who was exposed by two abbots with unusual powers of observation and deduction!" Anderson exclaimed.

"A blonde woman hiding amongst bald monks?" Lestrade asked, an eyebrow raised with increduility. "That wouldn't exactly take Sherlock Holmes!" Lestrade exclaimed.

"Not just Sherlock, but Claudia too! We have evidence that he's been training her." Anderson nodded knowingly.

"They're dead." Lestrade said testily. Anderson deflated slightly. "I'm sorry. I wish they weren't, but they really are dead and gone." He insisted. Anderson looked away, hurt by his words.

"Well, how do you explain this?" Anderson asked, pulling out a map and pointing at a red cross painted above New Delhi. "Sighting number two: Incident at New Delhi. This one was definitely done by Claudia alone, it took much longer than Sherlock would have taken. But still, impressive, none-the-less." Anderson nodded respectfully.

"You haven't been titling these?" Lestrade asked, more than slightly worried.

"_After that it was simply a matter of tracking down the killer, which I did by working out the depth to which the chocolate flake had sunk into the victim's ice cream cone." The New Delhi inspector chuckled as he explained to the press._

_Soon after, he left the press hall and walked into the corridor. "My friend!" He exclaimed happily. "Will you not take any of the credit, lovely Claudia? This was all down to you." He insisted._

"_No, but thanks. You take the credit, you deserve a break." She winked at him._

"_Will you not at least tell me why you always look so sad?" He asked, walking over to her._

_She smiled sadly, before hearing a distinct horn beep outside. "I'll see you round." She said, waving before leaving to get in the car. Another crime solved, another distraction._

"Clever man, Inspector Prakesh." Lestrade said, using that as a reason for the mystery being solved.

"Oh, for...!" Anderson stopped himself from swearing badly. "What police inspector could have made that deduction?" Anderson demanded. "Only Sherlock or someone trained _for over a year _under Sherlock." He insisted.

"Oh, thank you!" Lestrade said sarcastically, sipping from his pint.

"You remember how Sherlock never took the credit when he solved all of your cases?" Anderson asked desperately.

"He didn't solve all of my cases!" Lestrade exclaimed, offended.

"They're out there. They're hiding. But he can't stop himself from getting involved and he's dragged her with him." Anderson laughed.

"You're romanticising him, Anderson." Lestrade said quietly. Anderson shook his head.

"It's so obviously them, if you know how to spot the signs!" He exclaimed in retaliation.

"The Klein Brothers, the Tower House thing, the Kensington Ripper- I solved all those myself!" He exclaimed, still maintaining the point that Sherlock wasn't _that much _of a help.

"Well, you got Tower House wrong." Anderson grinned.

"No, I didn't!" Anderson exclaimed, gritting his teeth.

"Yep, you did." Anderson smirked, folding the map to show another country. "Okay, sighting number three... The Mysterious Juror." Anderson began, causing Greg to thump his head on the sticky beer-sodden table in front of him.

"_As we all know, this Jury was convened under highly unusual circumstances, but now I must press you for a judgement. Is Herr Trepoff guilty or not guilty of the murder of his wife?" The German judge asked._

"_Not guilty." A chorus of voices said in German. _

_Meanwhile, the fingers of an impatient man tapped on the table._

_When it got to the turn of the impatient man, a smile formed on his lips. _

"_Well?" The judge asked._

_Three hours later and the headlines of all the newspapers screamed TREPOFF GUILTY!_

"It had to be him! There's no one else it can be! Do you not see?" Anderson begged.

"I see that you lost a good job fantasising about two dead people coming back to life, and I know why you want that to happen. But it's never gonna." Lestrade said grimly, wishing he didn't have to. Anderson deflated again, shaking his head, still maintaining his truth.

"Okay, I'm gonna go and see an old friend." Greg said, finishing his pint and standing up. "You take care, okay?" He asked sincerely. "I'll put a word in- see if they wont' review your case."

"Just look at the map, though." Anderson said.

Anderson had plotted a line on the map. First from New Delhi, then to Russia, then Berlin, Hamburg, and finally Brussels. "I predict France next." Anderson said, looking up. "They're getting closer." He smiled. "It's like they're coming back." He nodded. Greg smiled awkwardly for moment, before leaving the pub, letting the door slam shut behind him.

John Watson walked from the front door of his flat to his living room, where he put a white box down on top of a chest of drawers.

"It's good to see you, Greg." John said sincerely as Greg followed him in. The inspector sadly noticed the framed photographs of Claudia and Sherlock at their wedding day.

"And you." Lestrade agreed, shaking his hand.

"Have a seat." John gestured. Greg did so.

"So, how've you been?" Greg asked.

"Er, yeah. Good. Yeah. Much better." John nodded, smiling slightly. John turned his attention to the box. "Er, so what's in the, er...?" He asked.

"Oh, thatt. That's some stuff from my office- some stuff of Sherlock's, actually. I probably should have thrown it out, but I didn't know if..." He said, avoiding eye contact with John.

"No, fine, yeah." John assured him. Greg picked up the box.

"Yeah, there's something here. Um, wasn't sure if I should have kept it in." He winced, having second thoughts. Amongst other things, there was a DVD. He took it out and handed it to John.

"You remember the video message Claudia made of Sherlock for your birthday?" Lestrade asked. John nodded, smiling slightly. "Oh, I'm sure she had to practically threaten him. Well, she gifted me the uncut version, to share with the office, I suppose. It's quite funny." He smiled.

"Oh, right." John said.

"They're both on it..." He said, before wincing again. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought it." He sighed.

"Don't worry, it's okay." John nodded, assuring his old friend. "I probably won't even watch it." He laughed dryly, and they smiled awkwardly at each other.

"Well, sorry to cut this short but my lunch hour is already over. I'll call round sometime during the week now that you're feeling okay, we'll go for a drink, yeah?" He asked. John nodded, somewhat distracted by the DVD box in his hands.

"See you later, John." Greg said.

"Yeah." John called. Watson immediately stood and poured himself a measure of whiskey. He took the drink to his arm chair and sat down, staring intently at the DVD.

He sighed, resigned to his fate, and he put the DVD on.

_The sofa at 221B Baker Street. The patterned grey wallpaper. The yellow smiley face spray-painted onto the wall. _

"_Was that supposed to happen, the light going down? Yeah, okay." Sherlock said, pacing the room before glancing at his wife who was behind camera. "Oh, er, mmm. So, what do I do, what do I do, what d'you want me to do at the end?" Sherlock asked as he paced._

"_Just be pleasant. I know you can do that sometimes." Claudia joked. John's throat choked up when he heard their voices._

"_Shall I, um...? Smile? And wink? I do that sometimes." Sherlock said._

"_I don't know why you **do**. It's creepy!" Claudia laughed. Sherlock smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges slightly before he winked at her, causing her to snort laughing. John smiled._

"_It humanises me!" Sherlock insisted._

"_It creepifies you." Claudia laughed._

"_Fine whatever." He said, turning away. "Why am I doing this again?" Sherlock asked, abruptly turning back to the camera._

"_You're going to miss his birthday dinner." Claudia reminded him._

"_Of course I'm gonna miss dinner. There'll be people." Sherlock said. "How can John be having a birthday dinner? All his friends hate him." Sherlock said knowingly._

_John smiled again when he heard Claudia laugh._

"_No they don't!" She exclaimed._

"_Yes they do. You only have to look at their faces." He told her._

"_Don't be ridiculous." Claudia told him. He walked closer to her, eyebrows raised as he tried to convince her. _

"_Yes! I wrote an essay on suppressed hatred in close proximity based entirely on his friends." Sherlock laughed. John smiled again. He loved how carefree Sherlock had been before Moriarty had returned. Well, carefree for **Sherlock. **How easy it had been to make him laugh or joke- perhaps it was because of his satisfaction and being content, and if that was so, his contentment was because of his marriage._

"_Yeah, but on reflection, not such a good gift, was it?" Claudia asked, sounding like a teacher._

_Sherlock shook his head, pulling himself together and dropping his **infatuated** smile. _

"_What's my excuse again?" He asked Claude._

"_You said you had a thing." Claudia shrugged._

"_Ah, right, yes! That's right. A thing." Sherlock nodded, pacing again._

"_Sherlock, not good enough. Elaborate." She told him._

"_Oh, no. Only lies have detail." He explained. Sherlock stared intently at either the camera or Claudia for a moment- John wasn't quite sure which._

"_Right, I just... I need a moment to, um, figure out what I'm going to do." Sherlock said, pacing again._

"I can tell you what you can do." John said, lifting his glass to his mouth. "You can stop being dead." He said thickly, finishing it quickly, wincing as it hit his throat.

"_Okay." Sherlock said, looking back to the camera."I'm ready now." He said, sitting down._

"_Oh, wonderful." Claudia said, somewhat sarcastically._

"_Hello, John. I'm sorry I'm not there at the moment. I'm very busy. However, many happy returns. Oh, and don't worry. I'm going to be with you very soon." Sherlock said, just as John's doorbell rang._

John pressed the pause button just as Sherlock gazed intently at the camera.

_**PART TWO**_

_**From your lips she drew the Hallelujah. - Leonard Cohen**_

_**She realised a second too late what he was doing. Sherlock watched her eyes widen, and he turned away, completely unable to watch. He felt the panic begin to rise, thinking something had gone wrong. **_

_**Jim had pushed her, sending her flying from the edge of St Barts and plummeting down to the ground. **_

_**Claudia fell, hair streaming out behind her as her body fell to the ground. She didn't have time to thank her lucky stars, but if she could have, she would have.**_

_**As Sherlock had whispered in her ear before Moriarty pushed her, there was a large inflatable mattress that the emergency services used. She fell onto that, luckily, stopping her from dying but not stopping her from aching and getting minor bruising all over her back.**_

_**She had to quickly focus on the task in hand or all could be lost very quickly. Two pairs of hands helped her up, and she stumbled to her feet, her head spinning slightly. She was breathing heavily, and her whole body was aching and pumping with adrenaline. A makeup specialist drenched her in fake blood, and quickly drew some mediocre cuts onto her face and neck. She was then hurried to the ground under St Barts where she lay on the floor, looking broken. **_

_**As Sherlock had also promised, hoards of his homeless network crowded her, in fact, the only witnesses there were his homeless network. It was very effective planning on his part. **_

_**An actor playing the part of a paramedic loaded her body onto a stretcher just as she heard John's voice calling to her.**_

"_**What's going on?" John asked an actress**_

"_**A girl just jumped from the roof." The woman replied. John glanced at the broken girl being tended to. Upon seeing light brown hair, he began to worry. He jogged over, and sure enough, there was his sister, lying broken and dead on the ground. Her eyes were open, and she had a large cut on the right side of her face where she had landed. Blood poured from her body and onto the ground.**_

"_**Claudia-" John muttered, going into shock. "She's my sister!" John exclaimed as various people pushed him out of the way, not letting him get too close. John stumbled over his feet as he tried to catch up to the paramedic taking his sister away into St Barts. "Please. Is she...? Dead? Is she dead? Someone tell me!" John yelled as he fell to his knees. When no reply came, his eyes darted to the top of St Barts, where he was Sherlock Holmes staring down at him.**_

_**Meanwhile, the fake paramedics rushed Claudia into the hospital. When they were out of sight, they helped her down and let her sit down for a moment to catch her breath, before hurrying her up to Molly's lab.**_

"_**Oh, God. Claudia. I'm so relieved. Come on." Molly said when she saw the bloodied and battered Claudia hobble into her lab. "Sit." She directed, pulling a chair out. Claudia did so, sitting by the window to wait for Sherlock. She wasn't quite sure what he was going to do, but Molly did apparently.**_

_**Up on the roof, Sherlock spread his arms to either side and tipped himself forwards, plummeting into the air. Just as this happened, a man on a bike shoved into John, sending him crashing to the ground.**_

_**Sherlock fell forwards, diving past the window with his attached bungee cord following him.**_

"_**Clever boy." Claudia muttered. Whilst John lay on the ground, his eyes focusing back on what was happening, Sherlock continued falling to the ground, only to be quickly pulled back up by the cord. **_

_**Claudia grinned as he shot back into view, but frowned when he wrapped his arms around his head and burst through the window in front of her and Molly, smashing the glass all over the floor. **_

_**Sherlock landed on his feet and unclipped himself from the bungee cord. Sherlock straightened his coat, mussed up his hair and marched with intent to Claudia. She stood. He took her head in his hands in one smooth movement and kissed her hard, and deeply, before letting her go and kissing her forehead too. Fake blood was now smeared all over his face as well as hers.**_

_**Meanwhile, outside St Barts, Moriarty's dead body, disguised with a prosthetic face of Sherlock's, a wig and blue contacts, was placed where Sherlock's body should have been. They squirted him with more fake blood and left it to the actors. Various actors playing medical staff rushed to his body, getting into position and waiting.**_

_**At the same time, a well-known man walked quickly to John as he began getting up from his knees. The man stepped right into his way.**_

"_**John." Derren Brown said, putting his hand on John's shoulder. "John. Look at me, look at me." He said calmly, in the way that hypnotists do. John tore his eyes away from the suicide scene and looked at Derren. "And sleep!" He exclaimed, and John collapsed again, falling forward. Derren caught him and lowered him to the ground. "Right the way down..." He muttered as he did so. As Derren muttered various words to John, he adjusted John's watch and straightened up, glancing one more time at John.**_

_**John, unaware of the time he spent unconscious, woke up again as soon as everyone was in their rightful place. He clambered to his feet and stumbled toward the hospital.**_

"_**He's my friend!" John exclaimed.**_

_**Inside, Sherlock and Claudia were hand in hand as they walked down the hospital corridor and-**_

"Bollocks." Lestrade claimed.

"No! It's obvious!" Anderson exclaimed during yet another of their conversations.

As if to validate Anderson's claim, the TV screen in the pub blasted out that -

"...after extensive police investigations, Richard Brook did indeed prove to be the creation of James Moriarty... There was an uproar in court as Sherlock Holmes was vindicated and cleared of all suspicion... But sadly, all this comes too late for the detective who became something of a celebrity two years ago... Questions are now being asked as to why police let matters get so far. Sherlock Holmes and wife, Claudia Holmes fell to their death from the top of London's Bart's Hospital. Although they left no note, friends say it's unlikely they were able to cope with..."

"Well then. Absent friends. The Holmes'." Lestrade said, lifting his glass to toast them both with Anderson.

"The Holmes'." Anderson agreed, clinking glasses.

"And may God rest their souls." Lestrade added with a sad tone.

_Serbia. Number of Moriarty's hired assassins left – zero._

_Interrogation cell._

Inside the interrogation cell, a man called out in pain as he was whipped by a uniform-clad soldier. Inside the room, the solider torturing the prisoner tightened the shackles on his wrists, keeping him chained to the walls. The man was slumped forwards, his body needing as much rest as it could get.

Meanwhile, two more soldiers were sat, watching, silent. One was quite obviously a woman, obviously not a solider but supposedly the mistress of the torturer, considering she was only watching said torturer. From what the man could see, she had ginger hair, and a long black coat. The other soldier had his head too far down to tell anything about him.

The torturer paced the room, speaking in Serbian. "You broke in here for a reason, and then we find a man dead by your hands. Who was he?" The man demanded, picking up a metal pipe and threatening the man with it.

"He was a German assassin who was hiding here to escape from the British espionage. He recently killed my... _unborn child._" Sherlock cried through gritted teeth as he was whipped again. The woman tapped her foot restlessly on the ground.

"I don't believe you. Tell me why you're here, and then you can sleep." The man promised. He prepared to strike Sherlock again, this time with the metal pipe, but something stopped him.

The other male soldier had said something, whispering quietly. "What?" The torturer asked, leaning in to hear more clearly.

"Your wife is sleeping with your next door neighbour right now." Sherlock said, after gazing at the torturer for a moment. "Does your mistress here know you have a wife? No she doesn't, in fact, she looks appalled by the very notion." Sherlock said, seeing double as he glanced at the woman who still kept her head down.

"What? Who's my mistress? Anyway, if I go home now, I'll catch them at it! I knew it! I knew there was something going on!" The torturer exclaimed, and all like that, Sherlock had convinced him to leave the room.

"Not his mistress?" Sherlock enquired hazily to the woman.

"So, my friend, now it's just us three." The other male soldier said in fluent Serbian. "You have no idea the trouble it took to find you." He added, standing, as did the woman, her soldier's hat still obscuring her face, as the man's did too.

The woman marched over to Sherlock and gently lifted his face, wincing when she saw the extent of his beating. His eyes widened slightly when he finally focussed his attention on her. She looked mournful as she gently kissed his forehead.

"Claudia." Sherlock croaked thankfully.

Meanwhile, the other soldier revealed himself discreetly to be Mycroft Holmes.

"Now listen to me. There's an underground terrorist network active in London and a massive attack is imminent. Sorry, but the holiday is over, brother dear." Mycroft said, dropping his fluent Serbia for his fluent English. Claudia was grinning, prosthetic ginger locks falling into her face. Annoyed, she brushed it aside, tucking it under her hat.

"Back to Baker Street." She laughed. Under his long, curly hair, he smiled at her. The first smile he'd smiled since he'd killed Heydrich Muller.

**AN:**

**I quite like this chapter actually. And I'll just say right now, the way I just explained Claudia surviving her death is obviously stolen from the show, but it's definitely the way she did it. Obviously, you can make up your own minds for how Sherlock did it, but I'm just not that imaginative to make up my own theory! Sorry guys, but I quite like that one anyway. It's boring for Sherlock, but fairly bad ass for Claudia, haha.**

**Anyway, a very long-winded rambling chapter, but it was necessary. Next chapter will obviously be amusing and sweet.**

**Also- do you like the fact that Sherlock was arrested because he killed Heydrich Muller or is that to OTT? I personally thought it was quite sweet of him.**

**Anyway, keep reviewing, as always. I'll try and update tomorrow :)**

**PS- Obviously Sherlock couldn't kiss Molly when he came in through the window, but how amazing is that kiss? Yeah, well imagine that but 10x hotter (if possible) with Claudia. Boom.**


	4. John's Moustache

_I'm never gonna know you now, but I'm gonna love you anyhow – Elliott Smith_

"So, you have been busy since last met, haven't you?" Mycroft asked patronisingly to Sherlock, who was being shaved by a barber in the corner of the room. His hair had also been cut. Claudia however was sat in her chair, scowling at her husband. She and Mycroft had made a united front when they were looking for Sherlock. He'd told Claudia that he just had financial matters to sort out and for her to stay in Paris. He said he'd be gone no longer than a week. After three weeks, she was panicking. She went to Mycroft, who finally admitted Sherlock's plan of hunting down and killing Heydrich Muller in Serbia, and off they went to find him.

"Quite the busy little bee." Claudia added, staring at the ginger wig that she had placed on her seat next to her.

"I had one more man to kill, you knew that Mycroft." Sherlock replied coldly.

"You could have told us what had happened. I thought you'd died." Claudia spat, and he rolled his eyes. "Roll your eyes at me again and I'll divorce you." She promised. He had to really hold back from rolling his eyes again.

"I quite agree with Claude, Sherlock…" Mycroft began.

"Claude? Since when did you call her Claude?" Sherlock asked, sitting up and glaring, somewhat jealousy, at Mycroft.

"Since we had to track through Siberia to find you." Claudia snapped.

"You got yourself in deep there." Mycroft smirked as his brother sat back again.

"Colossal." Sherlock agreed.

"Anyway, you're safe now." Mycroft pointed out, fishing for gratitude.

"Hm." Sherlock agreed.

"A small 'thank you' wouldn't go unnoticed." Claudia hinted venomously.

"What for?" Sherlock asked her, eyes on hers.

"For wading in!" She exclaimed.

"I was only in prison for killing the man that kil…" He began, but stopped himself.

"Yes, I know. But I would much rather you were safe than he were dead." Claudia said softer, looking at the floor.

"Well, you've got both." Sherlock smiled. She nodded, allowing him that.

"Now that we've got that out of the way, can we just appreciate the fact that fieldwork is not my natural milieu?" Mycroft added sharply. Sherlock grunted in pain as he sat up, glaring at his brother.

"You sat there and watched me being beaten by a pulp." Sherlock exclaimed. Claudia winced at that.

"We got you out." Mycroft defended.

"No- I got me out. Why didn't you intervene sooner?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, we couldn't risk giving ourselves away, could we? It would have ruined everything." Mycroft justified.

"At least I know Claudia hated it. The tapping of her foot, the anxious twitching, the constant playing with her hair. She was glaring at him from under her hat. She was stopping herself from launching at him and killing him herself, you don't have to be a genius to work that out." Sherlock spat. "But you- You were enjoying it." Sherlock said declaratively at his brother.

"Nonsense." Mycroft said unconvincingly.

"Definitely enjoying it." Sherlock amended.

"Listen: Do you have any idea what it was like, Sherlock, going 'under cover', smuggling our way into their ranks like that? Having to pretend Claudia was my… _Mistress, _just so she could accompany me with no questions asked." Mycroft hissed.

"Ah, _your_ mistress! She was playing _your_ mistress. I hope you two didn't actually shag each other." Sherlock said, laughing slightly.

"Of course we didn't, you bloody idiot." Mycroft stressed quietly. Claudia looked offended at that.

"I didn't know you spoke Serbian." Sherlock said to Mycroft.

"I didn't, but the language has a Slavic root, frequent Turkish and German loan words." Mycroft shrugged nonchalantly. "It took me a few hours." He added.

"Hm. You're slipping." Sherlock told him. Claudia awkwardly looked around. If _that_, learning a language in two hours, was slipping- then God only knows what he thought of her skill!

"Middle age, brother mine." Mycroft smiled. "Comes to us all." He then added.

At that, Anthea walked in, holding in one hand one of Sherlock's suits, and in the other, one of Claudia's floral dresses.

"Oh thank God." Claudia grinned, practically launching herself at Anthea and stealing the dress. She'd been fed up of wearing clothes warm enough for Russian winter weather. The boots, the uniform, the _woollen military coats. _She flinched at the very thought.

_Twenty Minutes Later_

Claudia had gotten changed into her dress and felt much better without the harsh military clothing on. Sherlock took more time however, being careful of his now healing wounds on his back. Consequently, Claudia helped him to do his buttons up of his shirt, as his arms hurt too much to raise them up.

"I need you to give this matter your full attention, Sherlock. Is that quite clear?" Mycroft asked as Claudia buttoned the last button and stepped away, glaring at Mycroft.

"What do you think of this shirt?" Sherlock asked.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft exclaimed.

"We will find your underground terror cell, Mycroft." Claudia added, frustrated.

"Just put us back in London. I need to get to know the place again, all the traffic, breathe it in- feel every quiver of its beating heart." Sherlock included.

"One of our men died getting this information. All the chatter, all the traffic, concurs there's going to be a terror strike on London- a big one." Anthea said harshly, not interested in his desires.

"And what about my brother?" Claudia asked Anthea.

"John?" Mycroft asked.

"Have you seen him?" Claudia asked, annoyed at his nonchalance. He turned into a right arse when he was around Sherlock.

"Oh yes- we've been meeting up every Friday I'm in London for fish and chips!" Mycroft exclaimed sarcastically. "I've kept a weather eye on him, of course." Mycroft sighed as Anthea passed husband and wife a file.

Sherlock opened it, noticing the two black and white photographs of John, and a short report.

"You haven't been in touch at all, to prepare him?" Mycroft enquired.

"No, he'll love it. He'll just be happy to see us, I suppose." Claudia said, engrossed in the pictures of her brother.

"Oh God, he has changed you into him, hasn't he?" Anthea asked. "Even more so than before." She said, completely and deadly serious. Claudia looked confused.

"Oh, well. We'll have to get rid of _that._" Sherlock said, pointing at John's new moustache. "He looks ancient. We can't be seen to be wandering around with an old man." Sherlock said, and Claudia tried to hide her smirk from the two pairs of eyes watching them.

"I think we'll surprise John. Claude's right, he'll be delighted!" Sherlock exclaimed happily.

"You think so?" Mycroft asked.

"We'll pop into Baker Street. Who knows? Jump out of a cake." Sherlock grinned.

"Baker Street? He isn't there anymore." Mycroft frowned, as did both Sherlock and Claudia. "Why would he be? It's been two years." Mycroft reminded them. "He's got on with his life."

"What life? I've been away." Sherlock replied, eyebrows raised. Mycroft rolled his eyes at him and at Claudia when she seemed just as confused as Sherlock.

"Where is he tonight?" Claudia asked, sitting down to slip her heels on.

"How would I know?" Mycroft asked.

"You always know." Claudia smirked, looking up at her brother-in-law.

"He has a nice dinner reservation in the Marylebone Road. Nice little spot. They have a few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion… Though I prefer the 2001." Mycroft rambled.

"I think maybe we'll just drop by." Sherlock said, gazing at Claude who grinned in anticipation.

"You know, it is just possible that you won't be welcome." Mycroft brought to their attention.

"Ha! I'm his sister. Of course that's not possible." Claudia snorted as she stood up.

"Now, where is it?" Sherlock asked.

"Where's what?" Mycroft asked innocently.

"You know what. I am absolutely sick of wearing that God awful denim jacket you chose for me." Sherlock spat.

Anthea seemed to understand, and walked into the room holding his typical, long coat. Sherlock smiled fully, absolutely delighted. He slipped it on. Claudia reached over and popped the collar for him.

"Welcome back, Mr Holmes." Anthea grinned.

"Thank you." Sherlock said.

"Anthea! How rude. It's not just Sherlock anymore. They're a pair. Mr and Mrs Holmes." Mycroft corrected, smiling at his new found friend.

Claudia grinned back, and he winked at her.

_That evening_

Sherlock and Claudia walked hand in hand to the Landmark Hotel, both apparently in deduction mode.

A waiter walked over to them. "May I help you?" He asked.

Claudia and Sherlock both looked at him,

"Your wife just texted you." Claudia said, as his phone beeped.

"Possibly because her contractions have started." Sherlock concluded. The man fished his phone from his pocket, glanced at his message and ran away. Claudia smiled smugly.

"He's there." Claudia whispered quietly as they walked into the restaurant, noticing John sat waiting for someone, taking a sip from his glass of water.

As a waitress walked in front of them both, Sherlock had an idea. "Bow ties." He whispered. Claudia understood. An element of surprise was necessary, and bow ties were part of the uniform.

Sherlock walked to the nearest table and nonchalantly poured water down a man's back, nobody noticing that he had actually done it.

"Sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" He exclaimed, as the man began drying himself with his napkin. Sherlock stepped behind, pulling the napkin higher up.

"Please, let me just go to the kitchen and, er, dry that off for you." Sherlock said on the spot. With one tug, he'd taken the man's bowtie from his neck with nobody noticing. He walked away, tying it round his neck. He then did the same at another table, knowing Claudia was busy elsewhere.

She walked over to a waitress who was clocking off for the night.

"I'll take these back to the kitchen." She said, gesturing to the pencil and pad that the waitress still had. "I'm new." She said when she noticed the waitress frowning at such behaviour.

She took them and went to find her next feature of disguise. She walked behind another waitress, and very quickly undid the knot of her small white apron, and tugged it, much like Sherlock had done with the bow ties, from her waist. She slipped it on and tied it at the back.

Meanwhile, Sherlock quickly plucked some glasses from a table- the glasses of a man who had just put them down next to his menu. He put the glasses on too.

He then spotted his next steal. He walked to another table where a woman's bag was open, showing her eyeliner she had inside. He handed her a menu, covering her bag with it while he quickly stole it and put it in his pocket. "Madam, can I suggest you look at this menu? It's, er, completely identical." He said before walking away quickly.

When Sherlock and Claudia met again, Sherlock tied her bow tie for her, while Claudia drew a small moustache on with the eyeliner.

They then walked to John's table together, both adopting French accents.

"Can I 'elp you with anything, Sir?" Sherlock said, sounding only a little bit like Sherlock.

"Hi, yeah. I'm looking for a bottle of champagne, a good one." John said, not looking up at the excitable detectives behind him.

"Mmm! Well, these are all excellent vintages." Claudia said, only sounding a little bit like Claudia.

"Er, it's not really my area. What do you suggest?" He enquired, still not turning round.

"Well, you cannot possibly go wrong, but, erm, if you'd like my **personal **recommendation…" Sherlock began, his French accent wavering slightly when John still didn't turn round. Claudia smiled at Sherlock.

"… This last one on the list is a **personal** favourite of mine." He said, gesturing vaguely to the list. "It is, you might say, in fact- like a **face from ze past**." Sherlock said, taking his glasses off. Claudia grinned, not letting it get to her that he still wasn't looking around.

"Great, I'll have that one please." John said, handing Claudia the menu, still not looking up.

"It is familiar, but, er, with the quality of _surprise!" _Claudia said, exclaiming 'surprise!' in French, rather excitedly, even bending down and grinning.

John still did not look.

Her smile fell and she glared at Sherlock. He shook his head at her.

"Well, er, surprise me." John said.

"Certainly endeavouring to, sir." Sherlock muttered as he pulled Claudia away.

"Stupid idea." John thought he heard the waitress hiss as they left.

While they were gone, John smiled as he pulled a red velvet box from his pocket, opening it to check for the fifth time that the beautiful, white gold, three stoned trilogy engagement ring was still there. He closed the box and placed it in front of him.

Meanwhile, a woman began to walk down the stairs and into the restaurant. He quickly slipped the box into his pocket again.

The woman walked over and patted his shoulder before taking the seat opposite him. She looked very beautiful, with short, blonde wavy hair and a long dress on.

"Sorry that took so long." She told him, smiling at him. "You okay?" She asked as he fidgeted slightly.

"Yeah, yeah. Me? Fine. I am fine." He said nervously. Mary Morstan smiled at him and John laughed.

"Now then, what did you want to ask me?" She asked, watching as John's smile fell.

"More wine?" He asked, providing a change of topic.

"No, I'm good with water, thanks." Mary grinned.

"Right." He said, looking away.

"So…" Mary began, encouraging him.

"Er, so. Mary, listen. Erm… I know it hasn't been long, I mean we haven't known each other for a long time…" John began.

"Go on." Mary said happily.

"Yes, I will. As you know, these last couple of years haven't been easy for me, and meeting you has been the best thing that could have possibly happened." John insisted.

"I agree." Mary smirked.

"What?" John asked.

"I'm the best thing that could have happened to you." She grinned. John laughed. "Sorry." She smirked.

"Well, no. That's erm... So, if you'll have me Mary, could you see your way, um… If you see your way to…" John said, Mary giggling at his nervousness.

And that was, of course, when Sherlock thought best for him and Claudia to interrupt.

Claudia showed a champagne bottle to John, while Sherlock talked.

"Sir, I think you'll find this vintage exceptionally to your liking." Sherlock said, still keeping up the French accent. Mary grinned, hiding her face and cringing at John at his interruption.

"It has all the qualities of the old, with some of the colour of the new." Sherlock continued.

"No, sorry, not now, please." John said, not moving his eyes from Mary's as she laughed at him.

"Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers… Suddenly one is aware of staring into ze face of an old friend." Sherlock said, taking off his glasses.

"No, look, seriously…" John said, lifting his gaze to find Claudia grinning goofily at him and Sherlock staring at him with a slow smile forming.

John jolted when he saw them and now didn't tear his eyes from them.

"Interesting thing, a tuxedo. Lends distinction to friends, and anonymity to waiters." Sherlock said, smiling genuinely at his friend.

John turned to Mary, but hid his face as he began to well up slightly. He stumbled to his feet.

"John?" Mary asked, realising something was wrong.

John, for the first time, looked into Claudia's eyes. Her smile had fallen slightly, to concern.

"John, what is it? What?" Mary asked.

"Well, short version… Not dead." Sherlock said simply.

Claudia had already realised by now how inappropriate the surprise thing was, judging by the look of silent pain and anger painted on John's face.

"Bit mean, springing it on you like that, I know. Could have given you a heart attack, probably still will. But in my defence, it was very funny." Sherlock laughed nervously.

"John." Claudia began.

"Oh no! You're…" Mary said.

"Oh yes." Claudia said quickly, glancing to Mary in a flash.

"Oh, my God." Mary gasped.

"Not quite." Claudia shook her head.

"You jumped off a roof." Mary said.

"No." Claudia then said.

"You're dead!" Mary shrieked.

"No. I'm quite sure. I checked." Claudia then told Mary.

"Excuse me." Sherlock interrupted, dipping his handkerchief into Mary's water and rubbing his moustache off.

"Does, er, yours rub off, too?" Sherlock asked. Claudia had to stop herself from laughing, gritting her teeth together, but her face betrayed her by twitching slightly. Sherlock saw that she was dying to laugh, which of course, made him laugh.

"Oh, my God. Do you have any idea what you've done to him?" Mary demanded, furious.

"Okay, John, I'm suddenly realising we probably owe you some sort of an apology." Sherlock realised.

John suddenly slammed his clenched fist onto the table, making Claude jump.

"All right, just… John? Just keep…" Mary tried reassuring him.

John inhaled deeply before looking up and turning his anger to the pair in front of him.

"Two years." He said tightly, and Claudia averted her eyes. "Two years…" He tried again, unable to continue as he moaned and slumped over slightly. "I thought…" John said. "I thought you were dead." He finished. "Hm?" He asked, getting angrier again. "Now, you let me grieve, hm? How could you do that?" He demanded. "How?" He shouted.

"John, I'm sorry." Claudia said sincerely.

"Wait- before you do anything that you might regret- um… One question. Just let me ask one question. Um…" Sherlock began. Sherlock almost laughed as he gestured to his faded eyeliner moustache. "Are you really gonna keep that?" He asked.

Mary laughed in disbelief, Claudia turned her face away to hide her smile, and John inhaled deeply. He then launched himself at Sherlock, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and propelling them both through the air, landing on the floor.

Mary and Claudia both hurriedly went to John and pulled him off, as well as various waiters trying to help too.

_Later_

Now sat in a café, with John and Mary on one side of the table, and Sherlock and Claudia on the other, they faced each other tensely.

"I calculated that there were thirteen possibilities once I'd invited Moriarty onto the roof. I wanted to avoid me and Claudia dying if at all possible. The first scenario involved hurling ourselves into a parked hospital van filled with washing bags." Sherlock began.

"Impossible. The angle was too steep." Claudia finished.

"Secondly, a system of Japanese wrestling…" Sherlock began, but John interrupted.

"You know, for a genius you can be remarkably thick." John commented.

"What?" Sherlock asked innocently.

"I don't care how you faked it, Sherlock, I wanna know why. I wanna know why you kept _my sister away from me for two years!"_ He exclaimed, getting angry once more. Mary's hand clasped in his kept him calm, and his voice stayed relatively quiet.

"Why? Because Moriarty had to be stopped." Sherlock said, as if obvious. John glared at him. "Oh, 'why' as in…" Sherlock began. John nodded. "I see. Yes. That's a little more difficult to explain." Sherlock nodded.

"I've got all night." John assured him, darkly.

"It was Mycroft's idea." Claudia said, before Sherlock could say something stupid.

"Oh, so it's your brother's plan?" John asked Sherlock.

"Oh, they would need a confidant." Mary spoke up. Sherlock nodded. "Sorry." Mary winced at John's angry expression directed at her. Claudia and Mary shared a glance and a grimace.

"But he was the only one? The only one who knew?" John asked, praying that that was the case.

"Couple of others." Sherlock said nonchalantly. "It was a very elaborate plan, it had to be. The next of thirteen possibilities…" Sherlock began.

"Who else, Claudia?" John turned to his sister, knowing she'd tell him. She looked into his eyes for a moment before answering.

"Molly." She said.

"Molly?" John demanded.

"Please." Claudia whispered, distraught.

"Molly Hooper, and some of my homeless network, and that's all." Sherlock spoke up.

"Okay." John said, sitting back. "Okay. So just your brother, and Molly Hooper, and a hundred tramps." John said, his voice getting angrier the more he spoke.

"No!" Sherlock laughed. "Twenty five at the most." He corrected.

With that, John threw himself over the table again and wrestled Sherlock to the floor.

Claudia glanced at Mary.

"It's nice to meet you, anyway." Claudia grinned, shaking Mary's hand. "I'd like to say I've heard a lot about you, but I really haven't." She smiled. Mary sniggered at Claudia's shocked expression when she realised what she'd just said.

"Nice to meet you too. I, on the other hand, have heard a lot about you." She smiled, before also grimacing about what she'd said. Claudia nodded, understandingly.

"I'm sorry- to you too. You've had to heal him, and I'll always be grateful for that. That's a good thing to say, isn't it Sherlock?" Claudia called to the ground, frowning. She genuinely wasn't sure.

"Plus!" John yelled from the ground. "You've turned my sister into a borderline sociopath!" He screamed.

"That's hardly fair." Claudia spoke up sadly.

_Later_

As they stood in the kebab shop, Sherlock held a napkin to his lip to blot away the blood caused by John's rather strong punch to the face. Claudia watched him, concerned as he winced in pain.

"Seriously, it's not a joke? You're really keeping the moustache?" Claudia asked John, who had warmed slightly to his sister. It was Sherlock he blamed, of course, for being a bad influence. Sherlock guffawed behind her, but Claudia kept her face straight.

"Yeah." John replied.

"You sure?" Claudia frowned.

"Mary likes it." He insisted.

"Mmmmmmm- no she doesn't." Claudia said.

"She does." John nodded.

"She doesn't." Claudia repeated quickly, and patronisingly.

John glanced at Mary, who looked apologetically at him. "Oh!" John exclaimed. "Brilliant." He said, trying to cover his moustache with his hand, which caused Claudia and Mary to share another amused glance.

"I'm sorry. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you!" Mary exclaimed. Claudia laughed gently, trying to cover it, which Sherlock was doing too.

"No, no. This is charming!" He yelled. "I've really missed this!" He then exclaimed sarcastically, pointing at his sister and Sherlock, with Claudia actually stood directly in front of her husband. "And now there's two of them! He's turned her into him!" John roared.

"One word. That is all I would have needed. One word to let me know that you were alive." John said to Claudia.

"I've nearly been in contact so many times, but…" Claudia insisted. John laughed at her. "I worried that you might say something indiscreet." She defended, and Sherlock nodded in agreement behind her.

"Yes!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"What?" John demanded.

"Well, you know, let the cat out the bag." Claudia nodded.

"Oh, so this is my fault?" John yelled, gently pushing Claudia out the way and marching up to Sherlock.

"Oh, God!" Mary yelled, fed up of the argument.

"Why am I the only one who thinks this is wrong- the only one reacting like a human being!" John yelled.

"_Over_-reacting." Claudia said quietly in a sing-song voice, almost as an after-thought.

"Over-reacting!" John yelled.

"John." Mary sighed.

"Over-reacting! So you both fake your own deaths…" John hissed loudly.

"Shh." Sherlock cautiously said.

"And you waltz in here large as bloody life…" He continued.

"Shh!" Sherlock told him.

"But I'm not supposed to have a problem with that, no, because Sherlock Holmes thinks it's a PERFECTLY OKAY THING TO DO!" He shrieked.

"Shut up John!" Sherlock yelled. "I don't want everyone knowing I'm alive!"

"Oh, so it's still a secret then?" John shouted in return.

"Yes, it's still a secret!" Sherlock exclaimed.

Claudia casually leaned round Sherlock to find another customer waiting. "Promise you won't tell anyone." She grinned lightly, laughing awkwardly.

"London is in danger, John. There's an imminent terrorist attack and we need your help." Sherlock said quietly.

John stared at him in quiet amazement, turning to look at Mary, who clearly didn't care due to the bored expression on her face.

"My help?" John demanded.

"You have missed this." Sherlock smirked. "Admit it. The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins, just the three of us against the rest of the world…" Sherlock listed. Claudia grinned too, looking down.

Mary noticed that and couldn't help but smile. She was glad that someone like Sherlock Holmes had someone like Claudia to enhance his personality, and make him obviously brilliant.

Before Sherlock could finish, John grabbed Sherlock by the lapels again and moved to head butt him.

_Later_

Sherlock was stood with Mary, his head tilted back as blood poured from his nose. Further down the street, Claudia had hold of John's hands and was talking sincerely to him as he hailed a cab.

Whatever she was saying to him, it seemed to work. He calmed down a lot.

It was as if, with Claudia, he'd moved on from the anger and was just glad she was alive. He put an arm around her and Sherlock noticed how joyful he looked.

"I don't understand." Sherlock said. "I said I'm sorry too, why won't he forgive me?" Sherlock asked.

"Gosh. You don't know anything about human nature, do you?" Mary asked. "Of course he's forgiven Claudia. She's his little sister; he's supposed to look out for her. Plus, you're the bad guy in all this. You're the one who brought Claudia into it too. He knows she didn't think the plan up." Mary reasoned. Sherlock looked at her.

He looked so helpless that she softened a bit. "I'll talk him round." She assured him as she saw John kissing Claudia's forehead as they hugged. She began walking away.

"You will?" Sherlock asked, curious.

"Oh yeah." Mary smiled at him. Sherlock watched as John let Claudia go, who then, in turn hugged Mary too.

Claudia waved their cab off and walked back over to Sherlock. She already had blood stains all over her dress from when she'd picked Sherlock up and supported him out of the takeaway.

"Oh, Sherlock." She sighed, putting an arm around his waist and hugging him.

He put an arm briefly around her too, but moved it when blood began to pour from his nose again.

_Cab_

"Mary." John said, calling her attention as she waved goodbye to Claudia and Sherlock from the window. Claudia waved back. "Can you believe his nerve? He comes back, with my sister, who he pretended was dead for two years and then expects me to…" He began, stopping when he saw Mary's little smile. "What?" He asked cautiously.

"I like **him**. I like **her**. I like **them**, they're very sweet. Did you not watch them? Cuter than puppies, both of them, when they're together." Mary gushed, still smiling.

John looked bewildered at her.

**Very much enjoyed writing this chapter, folks. Please let me know what you think **

**PS- The song lyrics I put at the top of the chapter is one of my favourite songs. Give it a wee listen if you're into folky stuff, it's really nice.**


	5. Game of Deduction

_**And when you say that you need me tonight, I can't keep my feelings in disguise – Alex Turner**_

"We really misjudged that situation. We should probably try to be a bit more understanding with the others." Claudia said as she and Claudia walked in St Barts. As they made their way to the lift, a nurse rushed over to help them. Without even glancing at the nurse or stopping their conversation, they opened their jackets to flash their detective badges at her. The nurse nodded at hurried away, intimidated.

"Yes, well. It's probably your brother just being touchy, as always." Sherlock said testily, his nose throbbing.

They got in the lift and Sherlock pressed the button to the morgue with his leather-glove-clad finger.

They walked through the morgue, Claudia purposely not looking at all the drawers of bodies waiting for Molly to perform autopsies, in case it made her ill nauseous. They ended up in the locker room, and waited for Molly to emerge in the doorway, coming from her lab where Sherlock knew she was at the very same moment, working late as she usually did.

"And 3, 2, 1..." Sherlock counted, and bang on time, they heard Molly's quiet footsteps walk into the locker room. She took her keys out to open her locker. As the door swung open, the mirror in the red door revealed Sherlock and Claudia standing behind her. She gasped and turned round to look at them both.

~8~8~8~8~

"Still not very good of us, Sherlock. She nearly passed out." Claudia hissed as they rushed to Scotland Yard car park.

"She's timid, naturally. She was bound to be surprised." Sherlock muttered. "Now, sh!" He hissed, putting his hand over her mouth. Claudia didn't bother moving it, they simply both peered round the corner to see if it was Greg approaching. It was.

Sherlock grabbed Claudia's hand and pulled them both into the shadows.

As Greg walked to his car, his lighter clinked loudly as he lit a cigarette, he put the cigarette in his mouth and inhaled deeply, lighting it, before continuing to his car.

"Those things'll kill you." Sherlock said into the darkness. Greg froze, and the cigarette fell from his mouth in shock.

"Ooh, you bastard!" Greg grinned, turning around just as Sherlock walked out of the shadows.

"It's time to come back. You've been letting things slide, Graham." Sherlock joked.

"Greg!" Claudia hissed from behind him.

"Greg." Sherlock corrected.

Greg stared at the both of them for a while, before apparently lunging at Sherlock. However, he went past Sherlock and hugged Claudia, before patting her head and turning to his old confidante. He gave Sherlock the same treatment, which caused him to groan in pain at his recent injuries.

"Careful." Claudia said, sounding like a concerned mother. "He's got stitches and bruises and stuff." She told Lestrade, who quickly let him go, despite the need to continue showing his affection.

"Now, we need a lift." Sherlock said in a dead pan tone. Claudia nodded.

"I can't really say no, can I? I technically arrested you both." Greg mumbled as he unlocked his car. His hands were shaking slightly, but apart from that, he was fine. "Even if you did punch me and give me a black eye, Claudia." Greg told her, eyeing her up and down as if she was going to attack again.

Claudia smiled apologetically. "Yeah, well. I had to, really. You were being an arse." She shrugged. Sherlock smiled proudly at her.

"Sherlock, you've turned her into a smaller and prettier version of you." Greg said, looking appalled.

"I know. Isn't it wonderful?" Sherlock grinned, opening the back car door for Claudia and walking round to the other side to get in his own. Claudia also got in, shutting the door behind her.

"Are you going home?" Greg sighed as he got into the drivers seat.

"Oh, yes. Baker Street is calling us home." Sherlock said, smiling contentedly at Claudia, who smiled back.

_Ten minutes later_

As Lestrade waved goodbye as he drove away, Sherlock unlocked the door and they both walked inside.

Mrs Hudson downstairs in her own flat, washing up, heard the front door open and rushed upstairs, brandishing a soapy pan.

She turned the corner cautiously, to see a familiar sillhouette in the frosted glass window of the door. As the door was pushed open and Sherlock and Claudia looked at her, both laughing mid-conversation, Mrs Hudson screamed rather hysterically.

"She's going to need some sweet tea." Claudia said, sighing and rushing upstairs to put the kettle on- if it was still there.

~8~8~8~8~

"_No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move." Sherlock said down the phone. "Please will you do this for me?" He then asked._

"_Do what?" John pleaded._

"_This phone call, it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note?" Sherlock asked, tearfully._

_On the edge of St Barts' roof was a dummy, dressed in a coat similar to Sherlock's and a scarf too. Also, it had a wig of curly dark hair and a photograph of Sherlock's face stuck onto the front. Sherlock was controlling it from his seat behind a chimney, where he sat with Claudia and Moriarty on either side of him._

"_Sherlock, did you push her?" John asked, and Claudia laughed slightly. Moriarty smirked, and nudged her to stop laughing, which caused her to laugh more._

"_No! Of course I didn't push her-" Sherlock began, but waved a hand at the both of them to shut up. "I truly adore Claudia. I never made that up. But she was in on it too, John. She couldn't cope and she jumped." Sherlock explained, a smile playing on his lips as it was the other two._

"_What's going on? Please? What happened?" John asked, fresh tears welling up. "Wait, note... What note? Sherlock, no!" John yelled as he realised what Sherlock intended to do._

_With that, Sherlock flicked a rope and the dummy fell from the top of the roof. Both Jim and Claudia laughed at the sound of John's horrified scream from below._

"_Sherlock!" John yelled._

"_Haha!" Jim laughed._

_Sherlock laughed too, delighted. Both men stared at each other, happy that their plan had worked apparently. Their smiles slowly faded, and as Claudia frowned at how long they'd been staring at each other, a horrified look came upon her face when she realised what was happening. Sherlock and Moriarty leaned in, their mouths just about to press together..._

"What?! Are you out of your mind?" Anderson yelled at the newest member of his club.

"I don't see why not." The Scottish girl who had invented the story shrugged. "It's just as plausible as some of your theories." She said.

About eight other young people stared at her in disbelief. Most were wearing deerstalker hats, but some were wearing honey coloured wigs and short sun dresses.

"Look, if you're not going to take this seriously, Laura, you can get out." Anderson exclaimed like a teacher talking to a naughty child.

"I do take it seriously!" Laura exclaimed. "I don't think we should wear hats and wigs." She said, glancing at the others.

"I founded 'The Empty Hearse' so like-minded people could meet, discuss theories..." Anderson began... "Sherlock and Claudia are still out there." He choked. "I'm convinced of it."

"Oh my God." Laura suddenly said, looking down at her phone. She held her phone up, with streams of tweets coming in. All of which saying either #SherlockHolmesAlive! Or #SherlockIsNotDead or one even said #Sherlock4Claudia4Ever

"They're alive." Anderson breathed heavily, patting his beard affectionately.

~8~8~8~8~

Claudia was unpacking their things at 221B Baker Street while Sherlock deduced- or tried to. While Claudia unpacked all of their things they had adorned their houses with in France, Germany and Russia, Sherlock was stood on the couch organising the wall behind, sticking maps, photographs and notes next to his now slightly faded smiley face.

Claudia began to dust the bookshelves, noticing that Mrs Hudson had began to take books down from the shelves but had stopped for some reason. That had been years ago- the dust settlement told her that. Mrs Hudson hadn't stepped foot in their flat for a long time.

"Will you close the window? It's freezing. I can't think." Sherlock complained, glancing briefly at Claudia who was almost stumbling as she balanced new books onto the shelves haphazardly.

"You close it. I was only trying to let fresh air in. This place is stagnant." She muttered, squeaking slightly as her foot fell from the chair she was propped on. She balanced herself by grabbing the bookshelf, causing a few books to fall to the ground in the process. "Whoops." She muttered nonchalantly, brushing her now dusty hands on her dress and hopping down. Sherlock smirked at her but turned his attention back to his work.

"London. It's a great cesspool into which all kinds of criminals, agents and drifters are irresistibly drained." He explained to her, knowing full well she wasn't listening.

She casually frowned at the dusty photograph of Sven, Sherlock and herself on their wedding day. She dusted it and straightened the frame, wondering what had become of Sven.

"What happened to Sven?" Claudia asked, but Sherlock ignored her.

"Sometimes, it's not a question of 'who?', it's a question of 'who knows?'" Sherlock continued, retying his red silk dressing gown. (Claudia had bought it for him in Paris.)

"Delightful. What happened to Sven?" Claudia repeated as she jumped out of the way as a dead spider fell from the curtains as she beat dust from them. "Spider." She said.

"If this man cancels his papers..." Sherlock began, walking to the window, picking the spider up by it's curled up leg and tossing it out of the open window, before walking back to the couch and standing on it once more. "I need to know." He concluded.

"Thanks." Claudia said, turning her nose up at the fact he picked a dead spider up. "What became of Sven, husband dearest?" Claudia asked, skipping through into the kitchen and opening the fridge. She was not surprised to already find a bowl of human teeth in some sort of liquid. She moved it to his side of the fridge and shut the door again.

"If this woman leaves London without putting her dog into kennels, I need to know." Sherlock brushed her question off.

"I see you're just going to ignore everything I say, so Sherlock, I'm going to take a shower and you're more than welcome to join me. In fact, I'm begging you to join me, darling." She said, casually tossing her apron she was wearing into the living room and strutting into the bathroom.

Sherlock momentarily drew his eyes from the wall and unconsciously let them follow her, going all gooey-eyed and dilated.

"All very interesting, Sherlock, but the terror alert has already been raised to critical." Mycroft commented from his spot on John's arm chair, amusedly watching their interaction. "Snap out of your little daydream, Sherlock. She was joking, she has locked the door and is washing her hands. God, she still manages to turn you into a teenage boy. Concentrate." Mycroft stamped his umbrella on the ground with impatience.

"Yes." Sherlock said, turning his attention to Mycroft and sitting down opposite his brother, returning to their unfinished board game. "Boring. Your move." He said, after taking his turn in a few mere seconds.

"We have solid information. An attack is coming..." Mycroft said, studying the board intently.

"_Solid information.' _A secret terrorist organisation's planning an attack- that's what secret terrorist organisations _do_, isn't it?" Sherlock asked sarcastically. "It's their version of golf." He then concluded.

"An agent gave his life to tell us that." Mycroft quipped, as Claudia emerged from the bathroom wiping her washed hands on her dress.

"Perhaps he shouldn't have done." Claudia said.

"Exactly. He was obviously just trying to show off." Sherlock finished, causing Mycroft to sigh, exasperated.

"None of these markers of yours is behaving in any way suspiciously?" Mycroft asked, turning his attention from the game to the wall. He quickly made a move. "Your move."

"No, Mycroft, but you have to trust me. I'll- We'll find the answer." Sherlock said, glancing up at his wife who was donning her apron once more and wiping the two year old coffee ring stains from the coffee table.

"It'll be in an odd phrase in an online blog, or an unexpected trip to the countryside, or a misplaced Lonely Hearts ad." Sherlock continued.

He glanced down for at most, three seconds, but made his move. "Your move."

"I've given the Prime Minister my personal assurance you are both on the case!" Mycroft exclaimed, annoyed.

"We are on the case!" Claudia exclaimed, also sounding annoyed. "Look at us right now." She said, motioning between them both and nodding.

"Oh bugger." Mycroft cursed as Claudia distracted him, causing his hand to slip and the nose of the man in _Operation_ lit up and buzzed. Claudia laughed rather loudly and falsely, just to convey just how annoyed she was at Mycroft.

"Oopsie!" Sherlock added, also smirking. "Can't handle a broken heart, how very telling." Sherlock said smugly, sitting back and crossing his legs.

"Don't be smart." Mycroft warned.

"That takes me back." Sherlock said. "_Don't be smart, Sherlock. I'm the smart one._" Sherlock said, putting a voice on. Claudia frowned over at the two brothers, not wanting to think of Mycroft treating Sherlock like that when he was young.

"I am the smart one." Mycroft glared at Sherlock. Claudia launched a book at his head, and dust showered his suit.

"I used to think I was an idiot." Sherlock said, ignoring his wife's mild act of violence.

"Both of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock. We had nothing else to go on until we met other children." Mycroft explained, shuddering at the memory. Claudia looked appalled.

"Oh yes. That was a mistake." Sherlock said lightly.

"Ghastly. What _were_ they thinking?" Mycroft asked, looking horrified.

"Probably something about trying to make friends." Sherlock replied, mildly disgusted.

"Oh yes. _Friends_. Of course, you go in for that sort of thing now." Mycroft commented, smiling smugly at his brother.

"So do you." Sherlock said, glancing at Claudia who was blowing on some of her records to clear them of dust. She put one on her record player and grinned, somewhat manically, when it blasted out the Beatles.

"Well, she's one of us now, Sherlock. She doesn't count. And if you two seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what real people are like? I'm living in a world of goldfish." Mycroft commented.

Sherlock stared intensely at his brother.

"Yes, but we've been away for two years." Sherlock said.

"So?"

"Oh, I don't know. I thought perhaps you might have found yourself... A goldfish." Sherlock said.

"Are we getting a goldfish?" Claudia called over the music.

"Change the subject- now!" Mycroft exclaimed, looking disgusted.

"Can we get two?!" Claudia shouted.

"Rest assured, Mycroft- whatever this underground network of yours is up to, the secret will reside in something seemingly insignificant or bizarre." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock! We need to go and pick up Buddy Holly soon! I texted Carla, she's still looking after her. I think she's angry at me. She wants to talk about John, too. And how I ruined her life. I think she really hates me. Hopefully she hasn't hurt Buddy." Claudia rambled as she fluffed up the cushions on the couch.

"Speaking of insignificant or bizarre..." Mycroft trailed as Mrs Hudson entered the room.

"I can't believe it. I just can't believe it. Sitting in his chair again!" Mrs Hudson exclaimed. "Oh, isn't it wonderful, Mr Holmes?" She asked.

"I can barely contain myself." Mycroft replied sarcastically.

"Oh, he really can, you know." Sherlock added.

"I'm not sure getting two goldfish is a good idea when we get Buddy Holly back." Claudia called over, still having to strain over the music.

"He's secretly pleased to see you underneath all that..." Mrs Hudson pulled an angry face.

"Sorry- which of us?" Mycroft asked sarcastically.

"Both of you." Mrs Hudson grinned. "Claudia! Turn that bloody music down!" Mrs Hudson exclaimed.

Claudia heard vague muttering so turned it down. "What?" She asked. "Sherlock, did you hear me? I'm not sure we should get goldfish." She told him.

"Okay, we won't get goldfish." Sherlock humoured her. She beamed back at him, turning the music up to an appropriate volume. "Let's play something different." Sherlock exhaled, bored.

"Why are we playing games?" Mycroft asked, frowning, feeling like a child.

"Well, London's terror alert has been raised to critical. I'm just passing the time. Let's do deductions." Sherlock said, resting his feet on the newly cleaned coffee table.

He leaned forwards and picked up a bobble hat from the table. "Client left this while I was out. What d'you reckon?" He asked as Mrs Hudson left and Claudia collapsed onto the couch, watching.

"I'm busy." Mycroft claimed as he caught the hat with a bored expression.

"Oh, go on." Sherlock urged.

"I always win." Mycroft warned him, briefly smelling said hat.

"Which is why you can't resist, isn't it Mycroft?" Claudia smirked.

"I find nothing irresistible in the hat of a well-travelled anxious sentimental unfit creature of habit with appalling halitosis..." Mycroft began, stopping when he saw both Sherlock and Claudia smile. "Damn." He realised.

"Isolated too, don't you think?" Sherlock asked.

"Why would he be isolated?" Claudia asked.

"He?" Sherlock directed at her.

"Obviously." She said, deadpan.

"Why? Size of the hat?" He then questioned her.

"No. Some women have big heads too. Nope, recently had a hair cut. Teeny tiny little hairs on the front of the hat." Claudia said, pointing them out to him and throwing it back- badly. Sherlock picked it up from the floor and pouted at it slightly.

"Some women have short hair, too." Mycroft turned on her.

"Balance of probability." Claudia grinned, sitting back. "Not that you would know, Mycroft. Not that you've ever spoken to a woman with short hair- or, you know, a _woman._" She grinned.

"Other than my wife." Sherlock muttered, to avoid a smart-arse comment from Mycroft.

"Apart from me." Claudia added as an afterthought. Sherlock turned his face to hide his grin. When he turned back, he was straight-faced.

"Stains show he's out of condition, and he's sentimental because the hat has been repaired three, four..." Mycroft began.

"Five times." Sherlock corrected. "Very neatly." He added. "The cost of the repairs exceeds the cost of the hat, so he's mawkishly attached to it. But it's more than that. One, perhaps two, patches would indicated sentimentality, but five? Five's excessive behaviour. Obsessive compulsive." Sherlock said quickly.

"Hardly. Your client left it behind. What sort of an obsessive compulsive would do that?" Mycroft questioned.

He threw the hat back to Sherlock, who grimaced.

"The earlier patches are extensively sun-bleached, so he's worn it abroad. In Peru." Mycroft smiled.

"Peru?" Claudia questioned.

"This is a chullo- the classic headgear of the Andes. It's made of alpaca..." Mycroft began. Claudia looked pleadingly at Sherlock, and he nodded.

"No." Claudia smirked.

"No?" Mycroft kept his smile.

"Icelandic sheep wool." Claudia grinned.

"Similar, but very distinctive if you know what you're looking for. I've written a blog on the varying tensile strength of different natural fibres." Sherlock explained.

"I'm sure there's a crying need for that." Mycroft rolled his eyes, and Claudia laughed.

"You said he was anxious." Sherlock said after a pause.

"The bobble on the left side has been badly chewed, which shows he's a man of nervous disposition..." Mycroft began.

"But also a creature of habit, because... Claudia?" Sherlock turned to her, throwing the hat.

"He hasn't chewed the bobble on the right." Claudia said, wide eyed.

"Precisely." Mycroft nodded.

"Brief sniff of the offending bobble tells us everything we need to know about the state of his breath..." Sherlock said. "Brilliant!" He exclaimed sarcastically.

"Elementary." Mycroft agreed.

"But you've missed the isolation." Sherlock said to the both of them.

"I don't see it." Mycroft said.

"Plain as day." Sherlock teased.

"Where?" Claudia asked.

"There for all to see." He said.

"Tell me." Mycroft demanded.

"Plain as the nose on your..." Sherlock continued.

"Tell me." Mycroft snapped.

"Well, anybody who wears a hat as stupid as this isn't in the habit of hanging around other people, is he?" Sherlock asked.

"Not at all. Maybe he just doesn't mind being different. He doesn't necessarily have to be isolated." Claudia corrected.

"Exactly." Sherlock agreed, causing both other players to frown.

"Sorry?" Mycroft asked, looking heavily confused.

"He's different- so what? Why would he mind? You're quite right." Sherlock said, looking dead on at Claudia.

He quickly placed the hat on his head, then looked directly at his brother. "Why would anyone mind?" He asked pointedly, referring to his brother.

"I'm not lonely, Sherlock." Mycroft said calmly.

"How would you know?" Claudia asked sadly.

Mycroft cleared his throat and stood. "Yes. Back to work if you don't mind. Good morning." Mycroft smiled at the both of them and left them to it.

Sherlock winked at Claudia who smiled, but worriedly pondered on Mycroft's happiness.

"Don't worry about him." Sherlock told her, tossing the hat on the table and shutting the window. He also picked up the books that Claudia had dropped and stretched up to place them on the shelf.

"He's fine." He said, straightening his skull on the mantelpiece and standing with his hands on his hips.

"Now, what was this about a shower?" He asked nonchalantly, and Claudia's hard expression melted.

She smirked at him. "You blew it." She told him. "You ignored me, left me all on my own." She said dramatically

"I'm deeply sorry." He muttered sincerely.

"Really?" She asked.

"Very really deeply sorry." He told her quietly.

She stood, delicately grasping his face and giving him the lightest of kisses. As he leaned in for more, eyes shut, breathing heavily, she grinned.

"Too late. We have to go and meet Carla." She said, stepping away and picking her bag up.

Sherlock looked slightly dazed.

"Pardon?" He asked.

"Carla basically wants to kill me, and you have to stop her." She said, turning the music on and throwing his coat and scarf over.

"Excuse me?" He then asked, pulling himself together. "That is cruel. That was very cold and cruel, Claudia Holmes." He said.

"The longer you wait, Sherlock Holmes, the better it will be." She grinned, sauntering out of the flat, leaving Sherlock to follow her like a love-sick puppy.

She felt absolutely on top of the world. And you know what? So did he.

~8~8~8~8~

_Just a wee little filler for you! Hope you enjoyed lovelies. And you're all rather impatient, aren't you! I wrote a few chapters back that obviously, John and Carla have split which I felt was good because she was poorly developed character anyway (my fault) plus I love Mary to bits!_

_The explanation will come in the next chapter- the right time hasn't yet come! Even Claudia isn't that stupid to talk about an ex in front of his current girlfriend...!_

_Anyway, please comment/review etc. It spurs me on- big time._


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